


And Poles Apart

by Chaerring



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Explicit Language, Gen, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaerring/pseuds/Chaerring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It’s barbaric</i>, is the only English thought that keeps passing through the lines of code and images that normally make up Q’s thought processes. He could manipulate the economies of continents and find out nearly anything he wanted to know about the world, but he couldn’t stop his parents from selling him off like nothing so much as cattle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



> This is for an Anonymous ask prompt on tumblr: _au where james is q's betrothed?_
> 
> Disclaimers: I do not own any part of James Bond, or his world, and my title belongs to, you guessed it, _Skyfall_ by Adele and Epworth.

_It’s barbaric_ , is the only English thought that keeps passing through the lines of code and images that normally make up Q’s thought processes. He could manipulate the economies of continents and find out nearly anything he wanted to know about the world, but he couldn’t stop his parents from selling him off like nothing so much as cattle. 

That sentiment was unfair, the more sensible part of himself chided. His mother and father had done everything they could to preserve their standing and estate before resorting to marrying him off, except coming to him so he could do something before it would make him look suspicious, and it made him a little sore that they wouldn’t ask for his help however illegal it might be. His sister, already married and set to inherit the restored estate wasn’t an option to sell off because apparently _some_ things had progressed when others hadn’t. So it fell to Q as the oldest son and only other child in the family to marry someone who would politely pay a bride price for him large enough to stabilize the family estate. His mother was absolutely adamant about keeping the land that came with their family’s titles.

Unfortunately for Q there still weren’t very many high bride prices for men floating about, at least not in England. His parent’s search was quickly expanded to the international level. The thought of it had left Q nauseous and planning routes to cities all around the world that didn’t include airplanes. In a budding stroke of luck for him, his planning turned out to be unnecessary. Their first and only contact was Monique Bond, an elderly woman of great wealth and formidable reputation. Q found her contact strange. She had not been linked with anyone romantically since her husband’s death over a decade ago. She had no daughters, just one son much older than Q, but despite his confusion Q was summoned through the chunnel alone to meet her. 

Q’s mother had forced him into a suit and put his glasses away in a case. Out of her sight he traded the suit jacket for a cardigan and returned his glasses to his face. He would not change himself or present himself falsely in a situation that had the potential to become so long term as this. His appearance did make the driver sent for him question him a little, but he dealt with it despite it not being his fault they weren’t expecting someone so “young and twinkish.” 

Monique Bond’s home was tucked away behind gates, and lined with more security than even Q could detect with a few glances around. It made his fingers twitch towards his laptop bag. What sort of secrets might the Bonds be hiding that they need security comparable to a government building? The speculation was enough to keep his mind occupied until Monique Bond appeared in the doorway of the parlor he’d been shown to. He stood instantly, feeling like maybe he should have kept the jacket his mother gave him on after all. 

Madame Bond was smaller than he had expected physically, but the presence she radiated as she stepped in the room was more than enough to make Q feel like the layabout his mother accused him of being sometimes. She approached him, laying a black folder on the coffee table and he felt more like he was accepting a hacking job than attending a marriage interview.

“Mister Queshire, thank you for coming.” 

“Q, please, Madame Bond. My family thanks you for your invitation.” 

“Your family does, but not you.”

Her statement is decidedly not a question, so Q doesn’t reply to it. He sits silent under her gaze and wonders if the crawling sensation under his skin is what his peers at school used to feel when he turned his eyes on their computers. After a moment, she spoke again.

“I appreciate your honesty, so I will return it in kind. My offer is not on my behalf. I am not some doddering old woman who wants a young boy at her beck and call for her final years. The offer is for my son. Our estates are facing the precise opposite problem that yours are. We have the money, but unless my son marries within the next six months we will lose our titles. My late husband was under the mistaken impression that James would settle down with a woman long before his fortieth birthday approached and therefore refused to change the clauses before he died.”

She paused and Q wondered if he should say something,if he was supposed to make some sort of token protest about not being interested in men, or some expression of relief about not following her about to sunday teas and afternoon bridge. He quickly decided silence was the better course to stay on, and waited for her to continue.

“James is considerably older than you, but I don’t think it will be a problem unless you’re highly adverse to that sort of thing. My son’s a handsome man, loyal, intelligent, more than a bit of a bloody bastard, but he gets that from his father. Do you have any objections or concerns that I can address?”

Q drummed his fingers on his leg for a moment and attempted to file his thoughts into order so that he could find out the most important things first and reserve the rest for back in his lab.

“No particular objections. However, I am slightly concerned with what Mister Bond thinks of the situation.”  
Madame Bond nodded as though she’d been expecting his line of inquiry.

“James’s only stipulations were that I find him someone that would not bore him to death or request that he retire. Considering your methods of occupying and employing yourself, I doubt that you would object to a little espionage on his part.” 

Q felt his lip twitch upward ever so slightly at the unexpected curl of pleasure in his gut. There was far more to the Bond family than his initial search had provided. He had a feeling he would have to look much more deeply into them to possibly even scratch the surface. 

“Mister Bond is a spy.”

“And you, Q, are a hacker. Do we have an agreement?”

He smiles his favorite smile, small and secretive. 

“Yes. My parents will work out the details with whoever you want them to.”

“Excellent. I believe you remember the way out. If you go quickly you can catch the next train.”

Q took the dismissal for what it was and accepted the ride waiting for him at the door back to the station. He wanted to research the Bonds more thoroughly, but he made himself wait until he could be back home behind all of his security instead of what he had on his traveling laptop. He took the tube straight to his small apartment rather than his parent’s house. They could find out he’d done his duty from Madame Bond when she contacted him about the details of the bride price. He had much more important work to do. 

He pauses at his apartment door. The crude piece of tape he normally leaves in the top right corner has been disturbed, but he didn’t get any of the alarms he had programmed into his cell for when someone broke into his home. Breifly, he debated with himself. Enter and face whatever was waiting with his only barely passable physical skills and slim body, or summon the police and deal with that hassle. 

Considering the amount of entirely illegal equipment he had within his home he decided to attempt to handle the situation alone first. He opened his door tense and ready to act, flipped on the lightswitch and carefully kept his face blank as the man sitting in his favorite chair was revealed. 

He was practically Q’s antithesis. He had short blond hair, was wearing a pressed and expensive suit, and he hadn’t traded the jacket for a cardigan. Even sitting down Q was fairly certain the other man had twice his bodyweight in muscle. It was his eyes, though. His blue eyes brightly colored from even across the room that drew Q in. He was very careful not to blink or look surprised.  
“James Bond, I presume.”

“Quincy Queshire.”

“I prefer Q.”

“James.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The corner of James’s mouth twitched upwards and too late Q realizes he fell for the trap in a completely different manner than he had intended not to. Bond had been testing his mettle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my beta TheGreatSporkWielder! 
> 
> And special thanks to everyone who has commented or kudos'd!

Q stared at James openly from his place by the door. He wasn’t going to admit that James was in his favorite chair, or that meeting the man so soon after agreeing to be bound to him wasn’t what he had planned. He was unsettled by the other man’s presence in his home, his sanctuary where no one else had tread since he moved in, but damned if he would show it. 

“Is there a particular reason you thought we should meet this evening?” Q rounded the couch and took a seat directly across from James trying to make himself feel more comfortable and in control than he did.

“I’m glad you asked. Obviously, we’re leaving the details of the estates up to our parents and the lawyers.” 

James paused when he wasn’t asking a question much like his mother had, but this time Q couldn’t resist a dry remark.

“Obviously.”

“That contract, however, will not include any of the workings of our actual marriage. I just thought I’d pop in and we could discuss it before things got too far along.”

That was exactly what Q was afraid of. He was unprepared to deal with James Bond at the moment. He didn’t have all the information he needed. He was going in blind, having no clue what to expect from the older man. Q didn’t have any idea what he could press for in their negotiations, or what he needed to be fine conceding to James. Entering such an important discussion blind was completely out of his usual range of operations and he didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t realize he’d kept his silence too long until James continued again.

“My mother will expect certain things from us. Appearances at a few functions here in London to make our marriage easier to prove to the lawyers of our estate will be the largest thing, I believe. You might need to cut your hair and buy some new clothes before then so that you look less like a rent boy.”

It was a taunt that Q almost fell for. He almost arched his brow and kicked James Bond out of his flat, but he stopped himself. Turning his fiance into a tricky bit of code inside his mind made him easier to deal with. Once he’d done that, keeping his face flat and unresponsive as he replied was simple.

“You, James, look exactly like a man who might order up a rent boy, so I think I’ll stay as I am. We can be a matched set at these events that way.”

The corner of James’s mouth twitched upwards and too late Q realizes he fell for the trap in a completely different manner than he had intended not to. Bond had been testing his mettle. The thought was jarring, even if it looked like he might have passed. 

“Let’s put that aside and discuss what pertains more directly to us. Is there anything you’re particularly adverse to, Q?”

“Airplanes.” 

Q let the honest answer out easily. He wasn’t ashamed of his fear of flying and he found it was much better to be direct about how he would not travel. Many of his business relationships had deteriorated because of it. 

“Airplanes? We’re talking about a binding union and you’re adverse to airplanes.”

“What were you expecting? For me to say I have an aversion to blond men in suits?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that you wanted to claim the left side of the bed or some other such nonsense.”

“I generally sleep in the middle, if you’re so keen to know, but I’m sure I can adapt if it’s that important to you.”

Q settled back in his chair and folded his hands feeling suddenly much more confident about their positions. It was becoming glaringly obvious that James had just as little experience being domestic or in a relationship as he was. He decided he was comfortable enough to return Bond’s inquiry.

“Is there anything that _you_ are particularly averse to that I should know about?”

He watched as James’s eyes hardened and his lips turned into a thin line.

“Lying. I’d rather you decline to answer a question than tell me something false.”

The answer surprised Q enough that he shifted in his seat. It was a far more serious answer than he had been expecting from James, and certainly much more revealing than he felt his own had been. Q found it completely logical, though, that his fiance wouldn’t want to face the same kind of falsehoods in their marriage as he did in his profession.

“I can keep to that policy.”

James nodded and Q got the distinct impression that he was being heard, but not believed.

“There are also....guidelines that you’ll have to follow as my next of kin.”

This time Q didn’t bother to stop the rise of his eyebrow into his hairline.

“Because you’re a spy.”

“Because I work for MI6.”

Q was tempted to press further, challenge James’s statement harder, but he let it go. He could find out what he wanted to know far more quickly from his computers than he could prodding the man across from him. 

“What sort of _guidelines_ then?”

“You’ll have to come in, get checked over, and be interviewed. Then we can determine whether cohabitation or maintaining separate residences is the better option.”

If Q was the type to express himself constantly he would have wrinkled his nose at the thought of catering to the whims of spooks and so called security experts that he could code circles around in his pajamas only half awake. Instead, he nodded slightly.

“I trust you’ll escort me in at your earliest convenience.”

“It’s far more likely they’ll send someone to-”

Q cut him off. 

“You will escort me in. I understand if you need to head on about your business afterwards, but I’ll not be picked up by some black car and taken to a government facility alone.”

“Something to hide, Q?”

“If I hide something, it doesn’t get found.”

The hacker kept his face blank and hard. He would not be walked over. The Bond family was getting just as much out of their deal as the Queshires were and Quincy was not going to set a precedent for letting James get his way from the beginning. 

“Very well. I’ll call before I come to get you.” 

James looked at his watch, some designer kind that Q would love to sink his tools into the cogs of. It was a far cry from the slim leather band and small face on his own wrist.

“I have one more question before I leave. What is your opinion on extra marital relations?”

Q blinked before he could stop himself. The question was perhaps even more unexpected than finding James Bond in his flat in the first place. Marriage wasn’t something Q had thought about before he had to, and he certainly hadn’t considered what sort of terms he would give his husband. 

“I’ve never given it much thought.”

“Do that. We’ll continue our discussion when I come to pick you up. It will be before the end of the week.”

With that Q watched James stand and move towards him. He tensed up, unsure why the larger man was moving in his direction instead of towards the door. Bond leaned in close, pressing on hand to the couch beside Q’s shoulder, and the hacker could feel the body heat he radiated. It was disconcerting to have his personal space invaded with so little notice, but he didn’t flinch. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Q.” 

James’s voice was low in his ear, and his eyes were locked on Q’s own. There were thin wrinkles there around the endless sea of blue. Crow’s feet, Quincy’s mother called them when she pulled at her own eyes. He rather liked having evidence that the man filling his entire fucking apartment with his presence was just another human to be navigated around. Bond withdrew just as smoothly as he had come with his jacket in hand. Q hadn’t even noticed it next to his shoulder when he sat down. 

His mother urged him to take care of his clothes, claiming a lot could be said about a man by looking at what he wore. Q never put much stock in it, but watching James unfold his coat without a wrinkle in it he wondered whether his mum would be more likely to swoon or bat her eyelashes. His own parka was thrown across the foot of his bed, possibly in the floor by this point, Q wasn’t sure. He stood, following James to the door.

“Perhaps next time I’ll be able to say the same.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, my first foray into the Skyfall, and the 00Q pieces of fandom. I hope everyone enjoyed it. If you have ideas you'd like to see me try I'm taking asks on my tumblr at: 
> 
> putonhisuniverse.tumblr.com . 
> 
> Or you can just leave a comment here. :D I kind of specialize in AUs and fantasy elements. ~~This particular piece may become a series if I come up with more things to do with it, but who am I kidding. _Most_ things I write become series.~~
> 
> Edit: This is now going to be a chaptered fic.


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